Two Men in a Cab
by L.M.Lewis
Summary: A coda of sorts.


Disclaimer: These are not my characters and I make no profit from them.

**Author's Note: **If you are inclined to read things in chronological order, this series of missing scenes begins a few stories back, with "It's What's Inside That Counts". This one is set just after the epilogue of the episode "Ties My Father Sold Me", which ends with Mark discovering that the father who deserted him, twenty-five years earlier, hasn't stuck around this time either. He's hit the road, leaving Mark with a note and an exceptionally tacky tie—and Hardcastle standing by to pick up the pieces.

**Two Men in a Cab**

by L.M. Lewis

_You could have prevented this._

Well, not the part where Mark's long-absent father had skipped town on him, yet again, just when his son had started to develop some sadly misplaced confidence in the man. No, that part had been mostly in Sonny Daye's own hands.

But the bit where it came as a complete, _total_ gobsmacking surprise to the man now slouching along beside him—Hardcastle thought he might have done something about that. Not that McCormick had been in any mood to be let down slowly earlier that day—so completely convinced was he that Sonny had voluntarily risked everything to save him.

_You took the easy way out._

Yeah, that was at least part of it, but maybe at least another small part was seeing the kid genuinely happy for the first time in a while—after what was probably twenty-five years of questions and doubts, topped off by a string of recent letdowns. He'd been a different person today: light-hearted. _Happy._

Not anymore. The crash had been precipitous and the results seemed unequivocally destructive. McCormick hadn't said a word since they'd walked out of the Apollo Lounge, him still clutching the note Sonny had left for him. _Small favors_.

He thought it might have been nice if the man had owned up to the bigger cause of his disappearing act: that he was afraid of Tommy Sales, even now that he was behind bars, and was too cowardly to testify against him. That explanation wouldn't have been as personal—or permanent.

Instead, the note had made it all about fatherhood, and how Sonny had no intention—wasn't _capable_—of being anyone's dad, not even on an occasional basis. And this to the son who had only today mistaken him for a hero.

There was nothing to do now but flag a cab and get McCormick somewhere a little less public, so he could pull himself together. There was no pausing to admire the marquee outside—the endlessly racing bulbs lighting up Sonny's name. Mark was keeping his eyes fixed on the middle distance somewhere in front of his feet, not even staring at the paper in his hands anymore.

Hardcastle kept one hand firmly on his shoulder and used the other to summon their transportation, then shepherded the younger man into the backseat of the first vehicle that pulled up. He had a brief notion that this wasn't the safest thing for them to do, in front of Sales' business establishment in the heart of Sales' town but, frankly, he was too worn out to be careful and Sales himself probably knew there'd be no reason for anyone to show up at the Apollo tonight.

And, indeed, the cabbie did nothing more threatening than flip the flag on his meter and ask, "Where to, Mac?"

Mac didn't respond. Milt told him to take them to the Chancellor and the cab pulled into traffic.

They were midway through the short trip when Hardcastle heard his friend say, quiet but firm, "I'll be okay, ya know. Really. No worse off than before when you think about it. Maybe better." He shook his head and added with more vehemence, "Better to _know_." He shoved the now-crumpled note into the pocket of his jacket. Then he lifted his chin and, after a pause, said, "What a damn fool I must've sounded like."

It was hard to know what to say to that. The judge found himself almost regretting the long, uncomfortable silence he'd been anticipating having to fill.

"Nah," he said. "There's nothing foolish about wanting the people who are important to you to live up to your expectations, and it's not your fault if they don't."

"I think I've never been a very good judge of character."

"What? 'Cause you give people the benefit of the doubt?" Hardcastle asked. "There's nothing wrong with that. Once in a while someone will make it worth your while."

Mark sat silent again, as if he were mulling that over. The cab turned onto Baltic and pulled into a space by the Chancellor. They climbed out and Hardcastle dealt with the fare.

"What now?" McCormick said.

"How 'bout we pack up and go home?"

The younger man seemed to give this only a brief thought before nodding his agreement.

"Might have to fly stand-by though—kinda short notice," the judge pointed out.

"Walking would be okay—anything's better than another night in Jersey."

There was less drama and more sincerity in the tone than the words might have indicated. Hardcastle jutted his lower lip out just slightly and nodded back.

Nothing personal against Atlantic City, but their luck couldn't be colder.


End file.
